Grand Marnier

Beer, traditionally found in this dish, ferments the batter and adds flavor.

Once used only to bake the fanciful soldiers on horseback given to children on the festival of San Martino, the short, buttery dough, in less fantastical shapes and forms, is a daily offering now in every pasticceria, luscious even with the slurring of its namesake.

This Grand Fashioned was the first-place winner of Grand Marnier and the New York Film Festival’s Independent Cocktail Festival in 1999, long before we ever opened Employees Only. The idea was to get two ounces of Grand Marnier into a cocktail without being cloyingly sweet. To balance this much Curaçao, we muddle fresh blood oranges with lime juice, sugar, and dashes of Angostura bitters. This cocktail looked so much like the contemporary recipe for an Old Fashioned that the name just took over. For the competition, we garnished the drink with a kumquat that had to be tediously scored and peeled to resemble a “blossom,” then stained inside with grenadine. You can imagine our surprise when, upon winning, we were told we would need to make five hundred of these cocktails at the premiere for All About My Mother by director Pedro Almodóvar. The Grand Fashioned is so rich and luscious that it can be consumed as an after-dinner drink.

The Millionaire Cocktail is not as romanticized as the South Side or as revered as a Whiskey Sour. Little is known about this Prohibition-era cocktail except that it was a popular name for cocktails of that time. We have found five different cocktails carrying the moniker, with recipes varying from whiskey to rum to gin. Even Harry Craddock, author of The Savoy Cocktail Book, listed two completely unrelated recipes as Millionaire Cocktail No. 1 and Millionaire Cocktail No. 2. The first consists of Jamaican rum, apricot brandy, sloe gin, lime juice, and grenadine; the second has anisette, egg white, gin, and absinthe. We have provided the Millionaire recipe from The How and When cocktail book by Hyman Gale and Gerald F. Marco, first printed in 1938. Although it inspired the name for our Billionaire Cocktail (page 64), we have made some slight adjustments to the proportions and added lemon juice for balance.

The original Champagne cocktail recipe illustrates the simplest incarnation of the cocktail in general: spirits or wines mixed with sugar, bitters, and water. Over the years, some recipes for the Champagne Cocktail called for the addition of brandy or cognac for a stronger kick and bigger body. But no matter what goes into it, the drink has always been the choice of prominent and well-heeled U.S. citizens because champagne commands a lofty price and is a status symbol in America. We at Employees Only choose to make this cocktail with Curaçao, specifically Grand Marnier. We find that it adds more flavor notes and blends more effortlessly than does cognac. It’s a misconception that one must use the finest Champagne in this cocktail. Please do not destroy a masterful tête de cuvee with bitters and sugar. Use a well-rounded nonvintage brut, which has the bones for such a cocktail.

The Manhattan cocktail we serve is not to be confused with the contemporary Manhattan. This recipe first appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century and is referenced in later editions of How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion as well as Harry Johnson’s 1882 Bartenders’ Manual. This forgotten formula has a higher ratio of sweet vermouth to rye whiskey, with an accent of orange Curaçao and Boker’s bitters, served straight up with a lemon twist. Cherries in Manhattans came later as the mixture evolved into a different cocktail. The subtle mingling of flavors in this version illustrates an older style of drink making. Of course, as with any epic cocktail, there are several conflicting stories about its origins. Our favorite version has Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, ordering its creation for the celebration of Samuel Tilden’s election as governor of New York at the Manhattan Club. As exciting as this may sound, it seems that little Winston had more to do with disproving the theory. At the time of the election, Lady Churchill was in England giving birth to Winston, and the only noted celebration for Tilden actually coincided with the day of Winston Churchill’s christening.

An all-time favorite fruit pie—strawberry-rhubarb—is utterly charming in miniature. These pielets would be welcome at a family reunion, graduation party, or other summer occasion. Baking the lattice-topped pies in mini muffin tins makes large batches easy to manage. If you’d like to serve the pielets à la mode, use a melon baller to form tiny scoops of ice cream.

These cookies originated in Spain, but today they are often associated with the American Southwest, particularly New Mexico, where they are the official state cookie. Lard imparts incomparable flavor—it’s worth seeking it out, although vegetable shortening can be substituted.

Homemade candied orange or tangerine peel (page 382) makes this soufflé special.

This is a decadent and classic Mexican cake that you have to make at least once in your life (and if you do, I guarantee you’ll make it again). A firm-textured cake, it holds up to being soaked in three kinds of milk/cream (hence the name tres leches). Traditionally it’s topped with sweetened beaten raw egg whites, which could be dangerous for small kids and pregnant women, two groups that really enjoy this cake. An Italian meringue, which is made of cooked egg whites, is the perfect solution.

The influx of great-quality tequilas into this country over the last decade has gently nudged my concept of what a margarita should be ever further away from the sweet blender drinks that bars and American Mexican restaurants pass off as “margaritas.” These days a long pour of good tequila, a dash of orange liqueur, and a quarter of a lime over ice is how I make them. The following recipe has a little more padding, but is still a vehicle for the flavor of tequila, so I advise buying the best you can (it should be 100 percent agave). If the salt-rimmed glass doesn’t appeal to you (or a guest), omit the first step.

The original sangria is this: good red wine, spiced with lemon juice, served with a piece of lemon over ice, with a splash of soda. That sangria has become more complicated, and a cliché of America’s Spanish restaurants, does not detract from its basic appeal; it’s as good a way as exists to spice up insipid red wine. Of course, the better the wine you start with, the better the sangria; decent but inexpensive (red) Zinfandel, wine from the south of France, and Rioja are all good.

A great alternative to red wine sangria and perfect for the summertime. This is a good place to use canned peaches.

The basic cake of the French pastry repertoire is génoise, used as the foundation for dozens of cakes and other desserts. While it is essentially sponge cake made with butter, it’s rarely eaten plain or on its own. Rather, it might be moistened with liqueur or sweet or fortified wine (Grand Marnier, Sauternes, or Oloroso sherry, for example) and served with a little whipped cream or used as a building block for other desserts like Trifle (page 651).

Trifles are anything but trifles: they take a good deal of work to put together, they’re about as caloric as desserts get, and, in the right serving vessel—like a large glass dish with tall, straight sides that reveals the tempting layers of cake, cream, fruit—they’re absolute showstoppers. In England, one is often wowed by the guiltless and masterful employment of loads of cream in many desserts. Trifles are a showcase for the British love of cream—in this case both whipped and pastry.

These can be produced, if you like, with lard or (more likely) butter, but this is an ancient recipe from southern Spain and probably was originally made with olive oil. Terrific with sherry or coffee.

When I first got Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen, I was so inspired by the recipes that I invited people over and made brunch for the first time in years. It was a warm, sunny New Orleans winter day, and I picked satsumas from my backyard tree and made these margaritas to welcome everyone.

The classic dessert bananas Foster was created in 1951 by Paul Blangé in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was named for Richard Foster, a friend of Owen Brennan’s who was then the city’s Crime Commission chairman. If you have been fortunate enough to visit New Orleans and eat at Brennan’s, then you know what an incredible dessert bananas Foster is. Sautéed in a buttery, cinnamony caramel sauce and flambéed with dark rum and banana liqueur, bananas are then poured over creamy, rich vanilla ice cream. On the brunch menu at Bar Americain, I take all those yummy components, replacing the ice cream with a slightly tangy crème fraîche whipped cream, and pair them with delicate crêpes. These crêpes are served as an entrée and not a dessert. I can’t think of a better way to start off my weekend.

Just a few of us hung around the kitchen following a wonderful late-afternoon party at Sarah and Sam Bell Steves’s San Antonio home. Sam’s son, Tres, stopped by and we started talking margaritas. Tres broke out the family’s personalized sterling silver margarita shakers, a pretty good sign that we’d stumbled into in the hands of a margarita-making marvel. We politely asked for seconds—just to make sure. Then we asked for the recipe.